


Two Worlds

by anamatics



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamatics/pseuds/anamatics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Myka's always been the smart one, Tracy's always been the one that doesn't quite get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Based off of a headcanon posted on the warehouse13headcanon tumblr. It stated that Tracy and Myka don't talk because of x reasons. My own personal headcanon is that Tracy's dead, but this worked out rather well, if I do say so myself.

  
.5

Myka has always been the smart one.

Tracy has always been the pretty one who doesn’t quite understand.

They work well together despite all of this. Tracy and Myka, the dynamic duo.

1.

“Did you get in?” Tracy asks, flipping the page in her latest copy of Vogue and watching as Myka reads the letter that she’s just barely got clenched between shaking fingers. She’s seventeen and this is her entire future in one single letter.

Myka scans a line, and then another line.

“On behalf of the entire university staff… I would like to extend my warm invitation to you… blah blah blah...” Myka reads out loud, an excited smile growing across her face as her whole body begins to shake with excitement. She got in, she got in! There’s a notice of a scholarship and suddenly this idea of going to the school of her dreams is actually a possibility. “Trace, I got in! I got in!”

Tracy is hugging her and Myka is ecstatic. She wants to run and tell their mom, to tell her that dad can’t keep her back any more.

This isn’t about him.

“You gunna tell dad?” Tracy asks as Myka carefully folds the letter back into the envelope and tucks it into the back pocket of her worn and dirty jeans. (Comfort jeans, she loves them to death despite the hole in the knee [and the crotch], she’s been needed them a lot recently.)

Myka purses her lips and shakes her head slightly and Tracy frowns. “You should tell him, Myka, he’s our dad.”

She’ll tell him when she’s good and ready, Tracy should know better than to ask.

2.

Myka graduates from Georgetown in three years and is enrolled in a master’s program the following fall. They want her to be a professor, to teach and to research. They think she’s amazing.

Myka can tell from the way that Tracy looks at her at commencement that her sister does not share her jubilation at such an accomplishment. She bits at her lip and sticks her hands in the pockets of her brand-new blazer and tries not to feel disappointed that her sister is going to Colorado, and hates it there.

She tells Myka secretly that she doesn't have a mind for college. Myka just thinks she's not trying hard enough.

“We’re proud of you,” their mother says as Tracy and Myka don’t sit next to each other for what feels like the first meal ever. “So proud of you.”

3.

Myka is recruited into the secret service out of the blue. They don’t see her love of literature as a deterrent to her character, but rather an intriguing facet that must be explored at length. They let her read old reports, studies. They let her study tactics and strategic maneuvers. They teach her how to shoot a gun and treat a knife wound.

She tells Tracy about the class where she had to stand in front of a classmate who is supposed to be the president and get shot with a rubber bullet to simulate the feeling of sacrifice for the greater good. She’s training to protect the president. To die in his ( _or her_ , Myka always thinks hopefully because she’s a feminist and you must be inclusive with your language) stead.

“I think that’s retarded,” Tracy announces with a huff.

Myka does not tell her that the term ‘retarded’ is ableist and diminutive to those who are differently-abled, she does not say anything at all. “It’s my job,” Myka whispers into the phone in her crappy apartment, alone and without a lover. “I want to do it.”

Tracy hangs up after announcing that if Myka wanted to get herself killed that was fine, but Tracy wanted nothing to goddamn do with it.

Myka gets up and goes to the bar around the corner. She gets drunk enough to not care and picks up a rather attractive law student named Emry and fucks her until the sun comes up.

She doesn’t feel better when she kicks Emry out at seven AM and reports back to class.

4.

They give her a post in Denver, and Myka’s an hour and change from home.

She doesn’t go.

Tracy doesn’t come to see her.

Their mother does, however. She comes with home made (and blissfully sugar free) pumpkin bread and a Tupperware full of chicken soup. Myka goes to Wal-Mart and buys a multi-pack of small containers and ladles the soup out into the small, meal-sized portions as her mother tells her about Tracy’s business.

“She’s got the loan all sorted now and is just working out where she’s going to set it up. She’s thinking that if she gets enough business that she might move it up to Aspen or something…” Her mother trails off and Myka’s hand is shaking on the ladle. “I always thought you’d take over the bookstore.”

“I’m not the son in Bering & Sons,” Myka says coldly. “I never was.”

She dreams bigger than this, and even if Tracy won’t talk to her, Myka will be better.

5.

She isn’t better.

Sam’s dead and she’s nothing but the fucking moron who got him killed.

She leaves, she won’t even go to his funeral.

Myka Bering is transferred to DC, where she really will take a bullet for the president if that will give her peace.

She throws herself into her work and tries to forget all the people that she’s lost in her life.

Tracy, Sam.

Tracy calls her three months into her stint in DC and says that she has to stop this, that she has to come home.

“The president is an asshole,” she explains over the phone as Myka busies herself cooking chicken on the stove. “Your life isn’t worth his.”

“He’s the commander in chief, I’d take a bullet for him if I had to. It’s my job.”

Tracy will never understand and Myka will never tell her.

6.

Sam is still dead and Myka’s spiraling into what seems like oblivion. There’s a gala and she’s working with _Lattimer_ who is a complete and utter idiot, but his instincts are good and if there’s a firefight, Myka wants him flanked to her left, protecting her blind side.

She worries things to death and there’s a fucking evil head that makes shit do weird shit and a guy and oh god they’re going to get the president killed and fucking Lattimer is going to fuck up her perfect operation and Myka’s gunna fucking kill him.

She lowers her gun and stares.

This is not right.

Somehow it all gets resolved and then she’s back at home and her hand is still warm from where the president looked down at her with kind eyes (he’s so tall) and thanked her for her service and protection.

Myka decides that if she has to take a bullet, the guy’s not half bad.

She calls Tracy as soon as she can and rubs it in her face because she’s finally done something right and suddenly Sam being gone doesn’t hurt quite so much.

“Hang up the phone, Agent Bering,” a stern and harsh voice calls from deep within Myka’s tiny and dark living room.

“I’ll… call you back, Trace.” Myka says into the phone, dropping it and diving for cover. Her gun is in her hands and she knows that she’s a damn good shot despite the ridiculous dress and impractical shoes she’s wearing.

“I’m a federal agent,” Myka calls, hands holding her gun level with her forehead, “Identify yourself.”

“My name is Frederic, and you work for me now.”

7.

Sam’s still dead and Myka doesn’t call Tracy from the Warehouse at all. She doesn’t want her sister to see her brand-spankin’-new South Dakota area code. She doesn’t her sister to think she’s being punished for getting a commendation and a personal thank-you from the president.

She’s haunted with every step, and as she passes a room full of statues, Myka shivers uncontrollably and looks away. This place gives her the creeps, hopefully Dickenson can get them home soon.

(Pete will likely stay, however, because he’s _Pete Lattimer_ and he never had any goddamn sense anyway. Fucking Jarhead.)

8.

She grows to like it more than she’d ever thought possible.

And then their dad is sick and Myka can’t call Tracy. Her mother tries to and it just cannot happen.

After it’s all said and done, Myka does tell her what happened, how her father had a heart attack and then had to fight for his life.

“I hate you!” Tracy shrieks into the phone. “Why didn’t you call me? Didn’t you think that I’d want to be there! He’s my dad too, you know!”

Myka does know, but she can only have one one, and she’s already decided that she can never tell Tracy about what she really does now.

Sam’s ghost haunts here here, and when they fly out of Denver, Myka grips Pete’s hand tightly and doesn’t think about anything at all until the city and the mountains are vanishing into the distance.

9.

MacPherson and his evil plot are a revelation to Myka. A foe that she can fight against. She writes Tracy an email and tells her of this ‘terrorist’ that they’re fighting. How he’s crazy smart and is evil and stuff. Pete wants her to add that he’s British and therefore clearly evil, but they’re running all over the place like crazy people and she can’t say much more than that.

Tracy texts her and tells her to please not get shot fighting against the mustache twirling villain.

Myka texts back that it’s her life’s ambition to get shot by Snidely Whiplash.

Pete approves of her pop culture reference.

And then H.G. Fucking Wells happens and Myka is more confused than ever. She is a she (a _very attractive_ she), and Myka really doesn’t want to shoot her. Because she’s well, attractive, also clearly smart and hell and Myka has no reason to think that, accent aside, that she’s in league with MacPherson.

And then it’s all so complicated and she nearly dies a few times and H.G. Fucking Wells keeps saving her life and there’s a Christmas stuck at the Warehouse and Myka realizes that she has two families all of a sudden and she really likes that.

10.

Somewhere along the way to Yellowstone Myka fell in love.

“Tracy I fucked up,” she says into the phone as she drives away from the Warehouse and everyone she knows and love outside from the woman on the other end of the phone.

“How the hell did you do that?” Tracy demands. Shock evident because Myka Bering is fucking perfect and never does something quite this stupid. Not Myka, not ever.

“I…” Myka trails off, thinking of Helena’s hands shaking as the gun in her hands is pressed against Myka’s forehead.

They’d never kissed, never said anything. But it was there and it was so amazing. And Myka hates herself for falling in love.

“I fell in love.” She can’t say it out loud, but she forces herself too. The next act is as humbling. “Can I … crash on your couch for a few days?”

Tracy would never say no. She doesn’t now.

“You’re an idiot, Myka,” Tracy says, “Get your ass down here.”


End file.
